


raise your voice, make me laugh

by rayfelle



Series: that one mutant romance [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, M/M, Mutant!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: The world moves forward and not all secrets stay hidden.Regulus is Harry's friend and nothing can change that.





	

Regulus lounges on top of Harry’s television, the flick of his tail a sign of annoyance and displeasure. The morning show playing on low volume does nothing to calm the agitated hiss that slithers past his fangs.

Harry looks up from his breakfast and then out of the window. There are pigeons jumping along the useless balcony railings. Regulus’ eyes follow their movement with precision that slumbers within any predator.

“Do you want to get out?” Harry asks over the laughter of the ladies discussing the latest trends, fashion and gossip.

The cat slaps his tail along the television screen and curls more into himself. “ _Shut up_ , Harry.”

The pigeons fly away and Regulus calms down. Harry closes the windows on his way out, leaves the television on. They have a routine now, after months spent together and even more simply knowing each other.

“Be safe.”

...

Harry is at the base; his legs raised high and placed on the table before him. Static buzzes in the background, Fenrir’s agitated growls a rhythm on their own. There are papers, mission reports and surveillance information in Harry’s hands that he scans over almost carelessly.

His mind goes back to his little apartment, to Tom’s cold fingers sliding along his spine and eyes once again shining copper in the setting sun. He’s lucky Abraxas is not in today. ( _he’s lucky Abraxa’s reads only what is on the surface and never what is hidden deep under_ )

Rabastan snarls into his phone and the device melts in his hold, the smoke a black tar along the pleasant brightness of the room. Fenrir blinks slowly, his head tilted to the side like a dog would do. “Something the matter?”

“That slimy fucker is spouting bullshit _again_.” Rabastan licks along his teeth and his fingers crush what is left of the phone. “The chicken order is trying to get up our ass again and Snape spurred on the new fucked up law.”

Harry slides his gaze away from Rabastan and tries to take in the black ink pressed into the white paper before him. The words make no sense, the information a gust of wind that cannot be caught. The new mutant law hags like a noose before a sentenced man.

…

Tom’s lips are on the juncture of Harry’s neck, his teeth sharp on the shapeshifter’s skin. Harry’s hand is tangled into brown locks that are soft to the touch, his legs jelly where they lay sprawled in front of him.

“Tom, you _dick_ , not _here_.” Harry licks his lips and swallows back a sound he has not made in a while. “Didn’t you have _important business_?” A tremble slithers along his ribs.

“You’re _more_ important, darling.” Tom licks along the bend of Harry’s neck and nuzzles his nose behind the other’s ear. There is no urgency to the movements, just the desire to explore and to mark, to taste the layer of sweat along Harry’s skin.

The shapeshifter feels his form trembling like disturbed water, details and marks blending out and shaping anew. Somewhere far away the smell of flowers grows stronger and the fragrance reaches them easily.

Time matters nothing in this small corner of the universe, held between their hands and their tangled breath.

Harry’s lips part for a quiet sigh of a moan, a shaky exhale of a cosmos made out of Tom’s touches. “I hate you and your _stupid_ ability.” He says but it’s only half of a lie and the rest rings truth into the air.

Along Harry’s back Tom’s chest vibrates with laugher and pleased purrs, deep and sated. “ _Oh_ , my dear goddess, I would _never_ think of controlling you ever again. You are not meant to be _bound_ and _chained_. _No_ , you are wind and storm, beautiful when free.”

A tick of seconds pass by and no more words are exchanged between them.

….

Regulus’ picture flickers in and out of focus on the television. It’s raining and Harry is curled up in numerous blankets, his windows wide open and letting the winds and the water inside. Regulus digs his fingers into the bones of his knees.

“They have no _right_!” The man says and the steadiness of his voice does not hide the simmering fire of rage. Sirius is giving an interview on the television now, face solemn and empty. “How _dare they_.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance, lightning splits the sky open. Harry doesn’t get up from the couch to close his windows, to mop up the rain, to reach out and comfort Regulus. Storms like these always pulled along raw and bleeding wounds, injustice that stung deeper and surer than needles under nails.

Regulus breathes loudly. There is blood welling up in his palms, leaking through the cracks of nails biting too deep into the skin of his palms. “I have never _been_ a member of _the Foundation_. They were not even that big of _a thing_ when I killed that _monster woman_.”

“Tom said that Snape gave them that tip.” Harry curls into himself, flashes back to the night when they met a long time ago – Regulus and himself. It had been a cold winter, another storm; Harry had just survived past his fourteenth birthday. “A triple agent.”

Lightning flashes with a blinding light and in Regulus’ place sits a cat. His fur is prickling, his fangs bared. “ _Of course_. Who _else_? I bet they found out about his _involvement_ so he decided to throw _me_ under. Bloody _again_.”

Harry cradles the cat close to his chest now, the wind bangs along the windowpanes. It rattles the bones in their bodies. “I’ll keep you safe.”

…

The lights flicker when Sirius enters the small café, Remus by his side and wall against the world. Harry shifts in his place, long and brown hair falling into his eyes and dipping into the steaming tea in front of him. Tom’s fingers against Harry’s waist don’t tighten.

It’s quiet as the two order their drinks, quiet as they all sit and breathe, quiet when the porcelain clinks against worn wood.

“You two are _still_ together, huh?” Sirius bares his teeth, much like a dog would to an enemy. Sparks play tick tack toe along the bow of his brow. “Wasn’t expecting it to last this long.” There is a tilt of snide mockery and disbelief cradled between the words.

Remus taps his fingers against his steaming cup and says nothing. The amber of his eyes is unrelenting as it stares into the storm of Tom’s smooth porcelain mask.

Harry shifts and crosses his slim legs one over the other, the swell of his breasts squished between his own forearms. “I fail to see why _that_ is important right now. Didn’t you want to _talk_ about something?”

Tom curves his lips in self-assured victory, the softness of his sweater a distraction against Harry’s bared shoulder. “ _Indeed_. I was under the impression that Dumbledore _wants_ something from me, _again_.”

Electricity dances along the tabletop. Remus licks his lips and answers in Sirius’ place. “Regulus Black. Dumbledore thinks we should finally _do_ something about him, before there are more murders.” The man’s hand settles on Sirius arm, warm and comforting in a way Harry has seen them together before.

“That man has not been _seen_ for more than _fifteen_ years, much less done _anything_ since he did the world a _favor_ and killed that horrible woman. _Why now_?” Tom leans back in his chair, slides his fingertips along the folds of his sweater. His tongue peeks out to lick along his bottom lip. It’s distracting.

Harry does not think about the haunted man in his own apartment. About the man that stays as a cat for weeks and months, afraid of the nightmares and the consequences of a betrayal. Regulus was as much of a victim as he was a hero to the mutants.

Sirius bares his teeth again, _tense_ when the talk comes back to his own younger brother. “Because of what Snape revealed. They think Reggi--- _Regulus_ will start up what Grindelwald left behind.” There are old wounds there, under the surface. But Harry will not be the one to bring them to light. “And the new law will ask for a proof of _obedience_ , you know that.”

…

Tom is a stone statue against the slowly bleeding sky that opens wide before him. There is silence that hangs in the air, suffocates the dust floating lazily in the air. Harry sits curled up into one of the wooden chairs of Tom’s apartment, his form of a small and pale boy of ten years old.

There is nothing in this empty prison of a living space. It’s cold and the walls are bare, a bed lies in the middle of the room and papers are scattered about the floor. There are deep dents and broken pieces embedded into the wood.

“So he really sold you out?” Harry licks his lips and his voice is too wrong, too highly pitched and childish.

Tom curls his fingers tightly along the windowsill and, if he were a beast, there would be long lines left behind. An echo of the kind of anger that never stops burning. “Severus _cannot_ speak of our private matters. My _will_ cannot be _shaken off_.” But the words are still a bitter poison in his mouth.

Harry rocks forward and then back, his lungs tickle inside of his chest. “But he _did_ tell the old man and the police that you’ve been in contact with Regulus. That’s why the _Order_ wants to work with us.”

“ _Work_.” Tom snorts and it sounds more like a snarl of an enraged wolf. “They want to use Regulus as an _excuse_ to pull us down as well. Two with one shot and all that.”

The sky continues to bleed before them. The sun breaks open the clouds and the darkness of the night sky. The city never sleeps; neither do the people who just try to survive the change of powers and beliefs. Mutants are still something to be haunted and feared. A brother still is capable of killing a brother.

Harry thinks back on the cat that now sleeps tightly curled into his side at night, of the man that sees nightmares in every flicker of the shadows. And then the mutant thinks of Severus Snape, who lives the best of both worlds, ignorant of who he had turned into a sacrifice to get there. It’s unfair and disgusting, it makes Harry wish he were a bit more ruthless and less humane.

“Did you know Snape worked _under_ Umbridge for a while?” Harry curls his fingers around in the air and catches stray spider webs with the jaded edge of his nails. His teeth click together when he swallows down the half-truths. “His father had gotten him the secretary place; he documented the names of whoever was taken in.”

Tom looks at the shapeshifter with the same kind of eyes that he had the day of the slaughter of Harry’s first home. The sunrise is the same as that day as well. Eyes of the basilisk. “ _Oh_? You don’t say, my dear?”

A smile curves Tom’s lips into something drawn with a razorblade on soft flesh. “Do tell me _more_ , if you would, love. This is some _interesting_ information.”

…

It’s night again. Harry breathes out a swirl of white breath and shudders in the loose jumper he wore before leaving. Somewhere, a few streets down, people are singing along to old and new songs, clinking their bottles together in a celebration that the mutant knows nothing about.

Harry doesn’t even know the date of his birthday. He celebrates it the day he ran from the Dursley house.

He looks at the old and well known creases of Cedric’s face. The boy is beautiful, even when it’s just Harry that hides under the grey eyes and soft, light brown swirls of hair that fall along the youthful face. It has been a while since Harry has dared to use the face of the young man that had lived a few houses down to Petunia and Vernon, a kind soul that took great care of his little cousins.

It’s perfect for what Harry needs to do now, though. Abraxas had assured the shapeshifter that nothing will go wrong, there will be eyes watching in case someone needs to interfere and help. The reassurance and faded presence is a constant buzz in the back of Harry’s mind now.

“ _Oh_ , what do we have here?” A man asks, his face covered by a mask and eyes nothing more but a streak of black. “What’s a pretty boy like _you_ doing in a place like _this_ , huh?”

Harry smiles; he is all charm and soft edges, a teasing tilt of head and careful flash of white teeth. Abraxas whistles low in the back of his head. “I’m _looking_ for someone. Maybe you know them?”

It’s minutes later that Harry follows the hulking form of the man down into humid basements. They are full of people and loud music. Harry can see alcohol and white pills being passed around, the heavy smog of cigarette smoke mingling with sweat and heavy beat of whatever is playing.

The man knocks on the door they have stopped at, the vibrations travel along the floors and disappear into the bodies of blessed out mutants and humans alike. When the metal creaks open Harry bows low and enters, eyes downcast onto the soft carpets laid out beneath his feet.

“I _saw_ you coming.” The woman speaks around the neck of the wine bottle, her eyes large behind her glasses. “Shut the door, Bane. This will take a while.”

…

Trelawney lays back into her chair, legs splayed open and numerous shawls wrapped around her bony shoulders. She hiccups once, blinks owlishly and then focuses her gaze on Harry. She seems to almost stare through him.

They sit in silence; the walls still vibrate from the noises of outside. Finally Trelawney leans in, the whole of her upper body laid flat on her desk. She bares her teeth and the wine sloshes out from the bottle. “Your boss wants to _make a deal_ with me. A pretty important one, I know. I _saw_.”

“He wants support.” Harry says. There is nervous energy coursing through his veins; his heart is beating too fast. “If they go ahead and legalize the new law all of us will be taken out, or put into the holding because we are not _loyal_ enough.”

The seer before him blinks once more and purses her lips. “Your boytoy will never agree to work with the _humans_. Too prideful. Has been _burned_ too much, the underworld _knows_. It knows _everything_.” She slides her tongue along her crooked teeth and bangs the wine bottle down on the table. “I _warned_ him about that smoke brat. He _didn’t_ _fucking listen_.”

Trelawney giggles, an insane tinkling of rusted nails. She scrapes her nails along the wooden surface and then heaves herself up. Her enlarged eyes once more focus onto Harry and she hums under her breath. “So that’s why that brat sent you. Better temper.”

Harry grinds his teeth but keeps his mouth shut. Abraxas _tsks_ something crude in an echo of the shapeshifter’s own thoughts. The woman before him ( _the seer_ ) might be a powerful leader of the underworld, but she was still the crazy, her visions even better and stronger than Hermione’s. They had ruined her sanity early on, uncontrollable as they jumped from days to years and then centuries, even.

Suddenly wet, bony and cold fingers dig into Harry’s cheeks with the kind of strength that the mutant didn’t think Trelawney was still capable of showing. Her breath reeks, her lips are chapped. “ _Oh_! Yes, yes, _yes_. You’ll do just fine; don’t worry about that cat of yours. Hah, _interesting_. Fine! Fine, fine! That ragtag group can come under me. I don’t care. _Chaos_ is more fun!”

Harry feels like breathing might be easier now, even if the smoke tingles unpleasantly as it goes down his throat. “Thank you. Tom says he appreciates your help.”

“ _Please_! Less ass kissing, more deal making. Now _get out_ , my head hurts.”

…

The law passes. Severus reveals himself as a member of the _Phoenix Order_. The man’s words die every time he tries to speak of the _Knights of Walpurgis_.

Tom slides his arm around Harrry’s waist, rests his cheek on the shapeshifter’s head. Trelawney sways where she stands next to them, a bottle of whiskey clutched between her skeleton fingers. Dumbledore breathes heavy where he sits in his wheelchair.

“ _Ah-hah_ , no can do!” Trelawney wiggles her fingers towards Rufus. Her lipstick is smeared, her shawls tangled and swaying in the wind. “Tom and his pack are _mine_. And we _both_ know about the documents _we_ signed, Rufy boy. _We have a different deal_.”

If looks had power, had secret thoughts been spilled that day, a new war would have broken out once more. But since only Abraxas can read what goes on in the heads of people, handshakes are made and promises lied for the sake of a _better future_.

Regulus Black is still a criminal to be chased down and locked up. The _Knights_ do not help with the search.

…

Regulus sits on Harry’s shoulders, his black cat body curled around the other mutant’s neck and claws digging into the male’s shoulder. There might be long and bleeding scratches left behind if someone were to pull the animal away in this instant.

Harry wanted Regulus to stay home. The man refused and now here they are.

Tom’s voice is hard as steel as he speaks, Trelawney is a giggling mess where she has laid to sleep on a small coffee table. Hermione looks at the older seer and her eyes widen with every second that the future continues to flash before her in a series of old Polaroid pictures. Dumbledore drums his fingers against the handles of his wheelchair.

“—do you have proof?” Dumbledore reaches out to stroke his beard, old and knobby fingers trembling ever so slightly as he moves them. “These are _heavy_ accusations, Tom. It would be silly to lie _just_ because Severus chose me over you.”

Rabastan bares his teeth and the tips of the man’s hair start to burn with a bright orange flame.

The screen flickers before them, Sirius an uncontrolled lightning forced to sit in one place. Regulus growls low and it vibrates against Harry’s neck. They can’t do anything but watch the proceeding meeting from a different room, through a television screen.

Tom smiles and it may seem gentle and kind. The man is a king sitting atop a throne of defeated enemies and successful battles won. “A man named Stan, a mere _coffee boy_ at the time, heard Snape and Black before _they_ killed Umbridge. It had sounded like they were _working together_ and then Snape put all the blame on Black. To save his own _skin_.”

“Smoke brat’s a _pro_! _Always_ asks a small fortune for assassinations.” Trelawney laughs from where she is still lying on the coffee table. Her jacket has come undone and a few tattoos peek under the lavender monstrosity, the skin pulled taut over the woman’s bones. “But I _see_ everything, can’t fucking _cheat me_ , that little shit.”

Regulus meows quietly from his perch on Harry’s shoulders. The shapeshifter slides his fingers through the soft fur and swallows heavily. It feels like there is a rock stuck in his throat.

Dumbledore sighs; Snape narrows his eyes at the television screen. “It does not mean that Regulus Black is _forgiven_. As far as I am concerned, young Black is still to be found and apprehended, since he took part. Severus has paid for his _mistakes_.”

Tom sneers.

…

Regulus sits on the windowsill, his long limbs relaxed as he enjoys the cool breeze caressing his skin. There is something before unseen and unusual playing in the creases and wrinkles of his skin.

Harry smiles, hides it behind a cup of tea. “Is it better now?”

“It is. I can almost taste hope. It has been so long.” Regulus breathes and opens his eyes, the grey a mirror reflection of old fondness. “Thank you, Harry. For everything. And please take care of me from now on as well.”

They share a secret promise, an inside joke that is as long as their friendship. It’s a comfortable and pleasant feeling that seeps like syrup on Harry’s tongue. They will get better. Regulus will one day walk the streets without fear lingering in his footsteps.

…

Harry lies in Tom’s lap – boneless, lifeless, _tired_. His arms feel like lead, his legs stiff and muscles sore.  There are blankets pooling around them, a thin sheet draped over their shoulders. Tom’s fingers press into the muscles spanning over the width of Harry’s back and neck, they massage away the stress of so many previous days.

It’s chaotic and it’s politics. But they will be _victorious_.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?” Tom leans down to place his lips against Harry’s temple, the movement soft and his breath hot against Harry’s sweaty skin.

Wild curls of black stick to Harry’s forehead and he curls up closer to the solid warmth and safety of his boyfriend’s body. “Stuff. You know, how _fucked up_ everything is and how I _kinda_ want you to suck me off.” Harry feels the most truthful after being taken apart and put together anew.

It’s humid in the room. There’s rumpled clothing scattered around the bed, documents torn along the way.

Tom huffs a laugh, his lips curling and fingers sliding over small scars scattered on Harry’s dark skin. It’s another universe, there, written on the shapeshifter’s body and every nuance that can rebuild itself as easily as breathing. It is beauty woven in the DNA, painted across the faint dusting of freckles on Harry’s hips.

“Oh, _love_ , but we have never been _better_. The masses now judge Snape and hail Black junior as a hero, even if _only_ in the shadows. And _we_ , my lovely Freya, we are _untouchable_.” There is fire licking a trail after every touch that Tom leaves, the man’s eyes a firestorm of _desire_.

Harry shudders. Starshine blooms warm in the crevices of his very being. “You fucking _suck_ at pillowtalk.” The sheet slides off from the bow of Harry’s shoulder, his eyes are a vivid emerald in the covers of the night.

“You started it, _Harry_.” Tom’s lips settle on Harry’s and his tongue licks into the shapeshifter’s mouth. They shift and they tumble, they gasp silent demands into the safety of their own pocket dimension.

The night stays silent and calm, the blankets fall off the bed somewhere along the way and bury everything under their weight. Somewhere in the furthest corners of the city a ballad plays in the background of a quiet hope that has finally grown roots into the concrete soil.

**Author's Note:**

> Another part! I had a small writing slump, so this took far too long to write for some reason. But I got some fluff int here, somehow.  
> Mafia boss Trelawney was, however, not planned at all. But then she happened and tbh #same. I also want to get drunk and forget about my problems like she does.
> 
> List of powers:  
> Harry - shapeshifting  
> T-Ridds - control of human will via touch  
> Dumbles - light  
> Sirius - electricity  
> Remus - Sabertooth p much  
> Abraxas - telepathy n shit  
> Hermione - glimpses of future  
> Rabastan - fire  
> Fenrir - sound manipulation/sonic scream  
> Snape - fumes  
> Reggie - turns into a cat  
> Trelawney - seer


End file.
